iHate Sport
by plug in baby57
Summary: Sam's attempts to find Carly a sport seem to be going in an entirely wrong direction. Eventual CAM and much swearing.
1. Rugby

It seemed like a good idea at the time. It was amazing how much of what Sam said did. It was also amazing that, if given time, a small amount of thought would reveal that the idea was more of a musing that most people would forget in a few seconds. Generally Carly recognised the ridiculousness of the suggestion right after Sam said. However, every now and again Carly would only realise just what Sam wanted to do and how stupid it was after Sam had done it and there was a citywide search for the stolen orangutan that was, in fact, in the iCarly studio.

This time, however, Carly was not left with having to disguise an ape as a child in order to return him to the zoo but she was left with immense physical pain in her legs and torso. It was the sort of pain that came from too much running and being tackled by _very_ butch women. She hadn't really grasped the rules but it seemed to her that Rugby was a series of dog piles in wet mud until someone got a try which was disallowed because her foot went off the side of the pitch. She was still angry about that decision.

This was definitely Sam's fault. It was Sam's idea that she should take up a sport and apparently, since starting high school, Sam had begun playing every sport under the sun. She said that it helped her to relax and was thus the perfect cure for the cumulating stress that Carly was under in all her advanced classes. Carly had forgotten that for Sam a fight was as relieving as a massage and so, at the time, it sounded like a good idea. It wasn't so good after eighty minutes of being trampled into patch of mud and then having to walk home looking like some sort of swamp monster because the rugby club didn't have showers. She was not a happy bunny.

What made it worse was that Sam, having invited herself to stay the night at Carly's, was now settling down in _her_ bed as if this was all perfectly reasonable. There was no option but to question her about events. "Sam?"

"Yes, Cupcake?" she replied. Gratuitous use of a pet name was not helping Carly's frayed nerves.

"What, exactly, is relaxing about rugby?"

"What isn't?" This served to annoy Carly even more.

"Getting ground into dirt by massive women and the fact that my legs feel like they're going to fall off, maybe?" was Carly's attempt at a sarcastic answer. She coupled it by rolling over to glare at Sam, leaving their faces close enough to make out each other's expressions in the darkness. Carly thought that Sam was aiming for nonchalance, and at the end of the day, she was achieving it.

"I think you're just sore that your try was disallowed." It was almost as if she was _trying_ to annoy Carly.

"No, I'm sore because I've just taken a beating from some fat chicks! But, my foot was never over the line."

"Fine, I'll find something that is non-contact. Wanna try softball?"

Carly didn't even entertain the idea. Their high school P.E teacher had banned her from taking part in softball lessons, under the proviso that she was obstructing the other student's learning with her apparent ineptitude. She thought that was hardly fair, they wouldn't ban a kid who couldn't do math from studying algebra. If anything, the kid would be encouraged to try harder. Of course, the teacher was the kind of person who believed that sporting endeavour was the greatest achievement in existence.

"Have you forgotten that PE lesson, Sam?"

"Which one?" She said grinning wildly.

"The softball one?" Carly questioned back. Not only had Sam gotten her physically worn out but she was now bringing up buried emotional scars.

"Oh yeah, you can't catch small things, can you?"

"Something like that"

"And you throw like a girl." Sam added.

"What? I am one!" It took three months for Sam to let that comment die down. It really was amazing that she'd forgotten about it.

"Fine then," Sam smirked. "Forget I said it. We'll try basketball." Carly knew why she's smirking. Throughout their teenage years, Sam has become an attractive, if still very abrasive, young woman. And a tall, young woman. Whilst Carly was climbing slowly towards five foot eight, Sam had reached the lofty heights of six foot four and threatened to push on further. For Sam Puckett having half a foot over someone was something to boast about. It also meant that she was a sure pick for the girl's basketball team.

Carly wasn't in the mood for Sam's teasing tonight. She rolled over attempting to emit a noncommittal grunt at the same time. Sam prodded her in the back. She tried to ignore it. Sam prodded again. And again. It was eventually too much for Carly. "What, Sam?" she said angrily, sitting up.

"What about basketball? I know you're pretty short but-"

"I get it Sam, you're freakishly tall." She interrupted. Loudly. "It's not something to brag about, it's just genetics that-"

"Carly," they hear Spencer shouting from downstairs. He must have heard her whilst working on his latest sculpture. "It's late and you've got school in the morning." It's his code for 'Go to sleep' without ordering her because it's just not in his nature to be authoritative.

"I don't appreciate being called a freak, Carls." Sam notified her. Carly was hit with a pang of regret. She'd been getting agitated and she didn't want to start a fight. Things never went well when she fought with Sam.

"Sorry." Carly said, quietly, looking at her. She felt bad but banter works both ways. "It's just that you did once confess to having a sexual relationship with ham. That is a bit weird, you know?" This time it was her turn to smirk.

"So what about track then?" Sam quickly changed the subject. Carly wasn't going to let it die this time.

"What about this ham?" Had the lights been on or they been a little closer, Carly thought she would see Sam go red. But they weren't and she didn't.

"My sex life isn't the issue here. You and sport. That's where we are. You were pretty fast out on the wing today, you could be a sprinter." Sam tried.

"What? I just run?"

"Yep."

"Sounds like a lot of work."

"So you want a sport that doesn't include work? You're not making this easy Carls." Sam started. Then an idea hit her. "You could play darts!" Exploded out of her mouth. Spencer must have heard her as she was quite loud, Carly thought before realising what Sam's suggestion was and being hit by abject confusion.

"Since when is playing darts a sport?" Carly questioned.

"It's a sport in England."

"Sam, think it through. We're not old enough to get into bars, how do you propose I play darts?"

"You could buy the stuff." Sam answered quickly. She didn't appear to be putting much thought into it and Carly knew that a fairly good reason for her to avoid playing darts had been mentioned not three minutes ago.

"I don't think Spencer would be happy with me throwing sharp things around the place." She said trying to be quasi-cryptic. Or what she hoped was quasi-cryptic. She wasn't sure what it meant but she wanted to do something that included the word quasi. Being cryptic was just a way of avoiding the actual subject, the throwing ability that had shown itself playing softball.

"Why is that?" Sam said, looking confused. Carly wasn't sure why, either Sam didn't know what she meant or her attempt at quasi-cryptic had failed. Carly would have put money on the latter.

"You know why." Carly replied, hoping to avoid having to spell it out.

"No, I don't" Sam smirked. It was obvious to Carly what Sam wanted. She'd have to bite the bullet and confirm all the comments from that softball lesson.

"Because I can't throw straight." She admitted. It was painful but it was true. Aside from the insanity of thinking darts to be a sport and not being of drinking age, it was the fact that she would likely manage to cause serious harm that precluded any darts playing.

"Don't you mean 'I throw like a girl'?"

"For god's sake," Carly spewed angrily. "I am a girl, it's compl-"

"Carly, it's really late." Spencer shouted from the kitchen. She'd got too loud again. And he did have a point, she did have to get up for school in the morning. She flopped back down in a huff.

"Someone's upset." Sam smirked in a smarmy style. Now she was getting Carly really worked up, in the full knowledge that Spencer might well get annoyed too, soon. "I think it's because of _that_ try."

"Well my foot was not over that line." Carly said bitterly.

"Whatever Cupcake, just go to sleep." Said the blonde.

"It's my bed, I'll sleep when I like."

--

Downstairs, in the Shay's kitchen, Spencer was confused. There were three reasons for his puzzlement. Firstly, he'd been commissioned by the American Physicist's Association to make a sculpture that represented the concept of the infinite. What he had made, without realising it, was a fish made from chunky peanut butter. Secondly, he knew his little sister and her best friend had just had a conversation covering the topics of height, darts and gender. He couldn't figure out how those three themes connected. Finally, and most confusingly, his peanut butter fish was on fire.

--**A/N**--

**So, not my first fanfic but so far my only one that I've really liked. Some more chapters may come along, I suppose now that I've got a start I might be inspired to keep going. It was mainly written in three sittings over around a month and a half so I keep thinking my style may have changed slightly half way through but I'd have to leave it for another couple of weeks before I could read through and tell but if I did that I might never get it on here. So hopefully you've enjoyed this, and if you have or haven't please review. I'm hoping for some constructive criticism here.**


	2. Association Football

Soccer, it seemed to Carly, was only marginally better than rugby. Sam had dragged her along to one of the school team's training sessions. There was less rolling around in mud but more rain although she'd accepted that the sport had little control over that. However, the coach at Sam's rugby club was at least a little nice, something the school soccer coach failed at. He was a middle aged Scotsman, balding and overweight, called Cooper. Sam had warned her about his appearance beforehand, but that did nothing to hold her shock upon their introduction. Carly thought she was joking. She believed that to be a reasonable reaction when your best friend said that a guy looked like "the lovechild of Sean Connery and a particularly ugly dead badger, who had since been in a terrible car accident and had reconstructive surgery which was performed by a blind gorilla who's only ability in the field of plastic surgery was to beat a patient repeatedly in a terrible rage." Yet, somehow that description had proved impossibly accurate. Carly could even make out fist marks on the coach's face. She had to wonder how she'd never seen this man at school.

As if having the appearance of being an unholy union of James Bond and a badger was not enough, the coach was deeply troubled by a past of failure, troubles that were augmented by a present of failure and likely future of failure. These issues manifested themselves by an obsessive need for victory that he believed was achievable through shouting in an extremely thick Scottish accent. Sam was, however, quite sure that victory was not achievable with the players he had at his disposal, barring herself, of course. Carly later met their lack of ability personally in the practice match, where she was constantly kicked in the calves by the opposition.

It was evident that there were three talented people on that pitch. One was Sam, who also played for a semi-professional women's team, a girl named Chloe, who could balance the ball on her head, a skill that is useless in a match but nonetheless impressive and Carly herself, even though it was her first time playing. She had found herself eerily adept at soccer, or as the coach insisted they called it, football. The speed that had served her so well as a winger in rugby had led the coach to believe that she should be a winger in soccer as well. The idea was similar to rugby, run towards the corner with the ball but instead of diving over the line she simply passed it in front of the goal. Despite her only experience being the hour of training done before the practice match, she was naturally gifted at this.

She didn't even listen to Sam explain about when to use the inside of your foot or the toes or the laces and various other things that didn't make a great deal of sense to a non-player. As soon as the match started, she was up the right wing and being marked by the opposing leftback, a heavyset girl, that Carly recognised as being in the lowest classes in all subjects, with a hunched back, long dragging arms, sloping forehead and an impressive beard. The ball came to her from Chloe, the centre midfielder, at speed and with the Neanderthal leftback looking ready to do some bodily harm Carly unknowingly raised her right foot to cushion the ball, which then rolled down the pitch. She chased it and dribbled towards the byline, leaving throwback leftback to eat her dust, not that there was any, as it was raining quite heavily and all the dust was now sodden mud. She then turned to face the penalty box and, spotting Sam running in, swung wildly at the ball.

Well, she thought it was wildly, but it somehow went over the head of the defender and landed on Sam's, who was more than surprised by it than Carly was, as it bounced from the top of her head and out of play. Carly was all for putting it down as a fluke until the ball came to her again and something similar happened. It was only until Sam, the tall centre forward actually scored from one of her passes that Carly accepted she might be good at this game. Of course, the manly leftback didn't like this and spent a lot of time raking her studs down Carly's calf after being embarrassed yet again.

Carly complained to Coach Cooper but that was no use. His reaction was to shout at her louder with his accent growing more impenetrable, but at her not at the Cro-Magnon leftback. Whilst Coach Cooper didn't care, she spied Sam in a growing spiral of rage, which would eventually get practice finished early.

Carly's team had a corner. She'd been told to hang around outside the box for corners and if it came to her, she was to kick it at goal. This suited her fine as there seemed to be a lot of shoving in the box, and Sam, the tallest, was at the centre of it. Each time, the person taking the corner had just kicked it towards Sam's head and it usually worked. For what turned out to be the final corner of the practice match, Sam was very angry and being generally violent towards her markers, so much so, in fact, that she wasn't paying attention when the cross came in and a defender headed it away. It landed with a splash at Carly's feet. As she thought to swing her right peg at the ball, the leftback that was a good candidate for the missing link came sliding through the mud to collide with and deliver a veritable holocaust of pain to Carly's left ankle.

Coach Cooper was very unhappy about it. Carly was very unhappy that Coach Cooper was very unhappy at her and not at the leftback who tried to snap her ankle. The coach shouted at her in his thick Scottish babble and she retaliated with a tirade of vitriol that surprised even herself and she knew she wouldn't be capable of in lighter circumstances. Engrossed in her shouting match, Carly had failed to notice that Sam was also very unhappy about it. Of course, Sam being Sam, she'd reacted more physically. With a left hook for the leftback. Sam's punching hand struck the poor girl with the force of five hundred Irishmen. The forced change to her bone structure had somehow made the cavegirl prettier, once the bruising had subsided.

Although Cooper was impressed by Sam's violence, he ended practice because Sam looked at him in a way that almost reduced him to tears. Carly had to wonder just what had set Sam off.

--

Carly really had to wonder what had lit Sam's fuse. It didn't take much to get punched by Sam, this Carly knew, but she usually reserved the left-handers people who insulted her mother or took the last of the ham. The punching had necessitated a phone call for an ambulance and Sam making a quick getaway. Or what she intended to be a quick getaway. For some reason she had decided that Carly shouldn't be left there alone, despite the fact that her ankle really did need to be looked at by a doctor.

The hobbling escape had taken then from the school field to the steps at the school entrance, before Carly's ankle gave way completely, an event that she would call 'the time that Sam caused even more damage to my already broken ankle'. As that name suggests, Carly's ankle was severely damaged. Hobbling was now out of the question, the most Carly could achieve was sitting on the steps and whimpering. Whilst now sheltered from the rain, Carly was once again wet and muddy from Sam's sporting endeavours. She was struggling to find any positives from the situation.

"Sport is absolute shit." She summarised.

"I didn't know you were capable of such foul language, Miss Shay." Sam replied, sarcastically.

"You also don't know how much this hurts. I've had it with this crap." She grimaced as she tried to move her leg. "Why didn't you leave me for the ambulance?"

"I couldn't hang around, what I did is an arrestable offence." Sam started. "And I couldn't very well leave you lying in the mud, under the care of Cooper. He'd probably make you starting running laps of the field." Carly looked on incredulously.

"What? Are you serious?" She asked. The ridiculousness of the idea had bamboozled her out of feeling pain and onto a wave of curiosity.

"Yeah, in Scotland they think footballs all about tackling and causing injuries. Cooper would probably accuse you of being a pansy." Her curiosity sated, Carly's severe ankle pain made itself clear again. She grimaced yet again.

"Call Spencer and tell him to pick us up, I really think my ankle is broken." She ordered Sam. Carly would have felt guilty, Spencer was on a date that night. The plan had been for them to walk home just in case the date went well and Spencer didn't cause some form of havoc in the restaurant. She would have felt guilty but the overriding feeling of pain quashed that.

"I can't" was Sam's simple reply. Those two words sent Carly over the edge of angry. Or so she would've said if she were not pedantic enough to say that 'I' is a single letter and 'can't' is a contraction. Nevertheless, she raged a similar pile of vitriol that met Coach Cooper, unto Sam.

"What the fuck do you mean you can't?" she began. "This is your fucking fault," she continued, "You broke my ankle, you can make one measly fucking phone call." She ended. As if on cue, a quick flash preceded an angry roll of thunder.

"I mean, I literally can't. My stuff is still in the locker room." Carly looked at Sam and realised she was still wearing the school soccer uniform. She would have been embarrassed, if not for the phenomenal pain.

"Then use mine, for fuck's sake." Carly gesticulated angrily, unable to believe Sam's lack of thinking power.

"Well the problem with that is..." Sam trailed off. Carly's fury rose even higher. To Carly's agony riddled mind it was inconceivable that Sam was taking this so lightly, did Sam not notice how much searing pain was co-habiting in the space that housed her ankle?

"What the hell is the problem now?" She questioned.

"Your phone is in the same place as mine." Carly looked down at herself. She was still wearing the blue jersey and white shorts of the school soccer uniform. Of course her phone was still in the locker room, she hadn't got changed yet. Theses shorts didn't even have pockets. She was beginning to feel light headed when she wondered, why don't these shorts have pockets? She proceeded to voice the question to Sam, in an airy tone that suggested her consciousness was not going to last.

"Why don't these shorts have pockets?" She asked before her unconscious head fell into Sam's lap.

**--A/N--**

**Not much to say. This was originally going to be episodic, just as series of different sports in each chapter with no real plot. Then suddenly I thought, why not? I then started to write this chapter and then I stopped writing it and started procrastinating. I pulled out three oneshots before I pulled my finger out but it's done. No offence is meant to any scots out there with regards to Cooper's character, it seemed funny at the time and it saved me having to think up his dialogue. I hope readers can understand the footballing section, it's all basic stuff more or less. I was going to make this longer, but I thought I'd rather get this out there quickly, lest I lose interest. **

**If you take issue with all the swearing, you can go play with yourself. I don't care what your arguments are, swearing is funny and it's funnier coming from a non-threatening teenage girl. As a forewarning, there is femmeslash on the horizon. If you take issue with that, you can go play with yourself.  
**


	3. Individual Medley

Carly dreamt. At first, she dreamt of sleeping on a pair of fleshy logs that were wrapped in soggy cloth. This turned into the aftermath of a wedding. Her own wedding, in fact. She went from resting on logs to being carried over the threshold, into a hotel room by a centre midfielder named Chloe. She didn't visualise Chloe, but somehow knew it was. Then Chloe left, mumbling about buying a dart board and how Carly threw like a girl. Out of the recesses of her mind, Carly noticed Spencer emerging to pop into her dream and say he had a date and then he left just as quickly.

Looking around, she saw that her bridal suite was no hotel room, but the laboratory of a mad scientist. She was bent over a soggy table, the edge digging into her gut and unable to feel her legs. Freddie was also there. Except he wasn't Freddie. He was a toilet, with arms and legs in various places. She knew at once that this was the work of whatever mad scientist owned this particular laboratory. And she had to find out, fast.

"Freddie, what's going on?" She cried, unable to move from her position on the table. She stifled the following laugh, as Toilet Freddie replied by flapping his seat, water spilling out from his bowl.

"You know when we were in high school?" He questioned. The dreaming Carly was confused, she seemed to remember that they were still in high school. But then again, she reasoned, people didn't normally dream about their normal life. She nodded and he continued. "There was one time when Sam wanted to copy your biology homework." She remembered that as well. She remembered refusing. She remembered making Sam do it herself. Toilet Freddie stumbled towards her on his lowest hand and foot.

"By forcing her to do it, you caused a chain of events that turned her into a scientist," He paused for effect and Carly knew this because it was _her _dream. "She did in fact become the top scientific mind in the world." Carly was impressed that Sam could reach such heights, even if only in her mind. Freddie continued, "The fame went to her head. Drove her insane. She built this lab on an isolated island in the pacific." Carly felt herself bob up and down, the table edge digging into her torso with each bounce. "She started doing crazy experiments. Turned me into a magic toilet."

"Wait. Magic?" Carly questioned. Toilet Freddie leaned forward and removed the lid of his cistern. Floating in his internal water was a Harry Potter DVD. Somehow this all made sense to Carly. Then Fredward the Magical Toilet was gone. He was replaced by a hand running up the back of her thigh. It edged closer and closer still to her right cheek and stopped just before touching it. Carly guessed it was mad scientist, Dr Puckett. It was, she heard Sam's voice displaced somewhere just above her bent form. Sam's words confused the dreamer.

"A quick feel will be fine, she's unconscious." Carly was unable to connect Sam's words with the hand that quickly squeezed her rear.

Dream Carly awoke from the anaesthesia that Mad Scientist Sam had applied. Carly awoke to find herself outside her usual form, instead walking on all fours with trotters instead of toes, pink skin and a curly tail. She turned to the white-coated Sam.

"A pig?" She asked, raising her piggy eyebrow.

"I prefer the term Ham Factory." Sam smirked.

"You turned your best friend into a living snack bar?" Carly snorted, as Sam laid down a trough of scraps, upon which the pork girl feasted.

"I wanted to create the sexiest thing in the world." Sam said, as if it were obvious.

"Explain." Oinked the Bacon Maiden, still feasting upon the leftovers of Spencer's spaghetti tacos.

"I thought if ham gets me hot and Carly gets me bothered, then why not mix to two and create pure sexiness?" Carly tried not to think too deeply about that statement, although she was in no state to think deeply at all. Instead she continued to eat.

**--A/N--**

**Short, sweet and slightly mental. This was written ages ago. Like the day after this fic was last updated. I've spent all that time trying to write more on this and just getting distracted by other ideas. So yeah, apologies for all that. I've been trying desperately to write what comes after this dream and it just hasn't been happening, so I decided to post this, as it stands alone and hope you good folks can motivate me.**

**So, the idea whilst writing this was to go full on surrealism, a proper dream. Lacking consistency, quick paced and just completely nonsensical. It's supposed to sort of sum up the previous events in the beginning and end with foreshadowing and make little sense in the middle. And I wanted to call someone a Bacon Maiden, that was a high point in writing this. And if anyone wants to help me by writing something I can shamelessly steal from, the next chapter is to include a sexy psychologist that Spencer fancies. She's gonna be clumsy and a bit of a ditz. What I really need help with is writing an entrance for her. Imagine the sort of scene from a movie, she walks in in slow motion, looks hot and Spencer is astounded and gets a massive boner. I need help writing that sort of thing (he doesn't actually get a massive boner, it's just so you get the idea), so anyone want to help me out?  
**


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